Sleeping Beauty
by I love music
Summary: The destruction of Angie Russell
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I wrote this about four years ago and re-discovered it so thought I'd post. Hope anyone who reads enjoys the trip down memory lane! :)))

*****chapter 1*****

**How It All Began**

Dark were the forces of evil that night.

Oh, there was a moon, round and full, admiring its own reflection in the black midnight waters. And there were glistening stars too and, now and again, the curving sweep of headlights of some vehicle, and the glow of streetlights shining on the faces of the late-night revellers passing merrily by. So, you see, all was not quite lost.

Not _yet.._

For the large, large house was the most brightly lit of all. After all, it _was_ Xmas. And a very, very special Xmas. Tiny twinkling lights decorated the two huge old trees that stood like sentinels on either side of the porch and in the vast garden a giant inflatable Santa Claus danced gently and rather alarmingly in the breeze. Some of the townsfolk had frowned and said irritably that the Santa was gross and some of the townsfolk had smiled and said indulgently _"Well, it IS Xmas!"_ but the children of the town had stared in wide-eyed delight (most of them, that is; I'm afraid one or two of the very little ones cried in fear) when they saw him.

Inside the glass porch of the large, large house a pretty little fibre optic Xmas tree glowed proudly in different shades of lilacs and greens and blues and above the door (old-fashioned, I know, but the couple who lived here were very fond of tradition) hung a sprig of mistletoe, ready to catch out any unsuspecting visitors.

But the Xmas tree in the window!

It was a _real_ Xmas tree, the most expensive there had ever been in the store, and so big and so important that it demanded attention. It was decorated with ribbons and baubles and chocolates, and fairy lights to dazzle in a myriad of wonderful colours. And at its top was a silver star and at its bottom fresh-smelling pine needles fell down on dozens and dozens of Xmas gifts of all shapes and sizes. Small wonder that the children who saw it sighed and wondered worriedly if Father Xmas would have _anything at all _left for them on his sleigh!

Inside the large, large house with the very expensive Xmas tree a mother and father looked fondly down at the crib where their beautiful baby daughter lay sound asleep.

"We called you Angela because you were born so close to Xmas just like the little angel you are," said Father, gently stroking the baby's soft, smooth forehead with his finger.

"And because, our special angel, we've waited _so long _for a child of our own," said Mother, kissing the baby's cute button nose.

"We've bought you lots and lots of presents, little Angie, because we love you very much," said Father, wiping a tear from his eye.

"And because, little Angie, you shall have _everything_ you want," said Mother, kissing the baby's downy head.

Oh, it truly was a Xmas tableau to gladden the heart. And if _that_ wasn't just _asking_ for a meanspirit to cast a meanspell, then I don't know _what_ was!


	2. Chapter 2

*****chapter 2********

**the tap-a-tap mystery*****

Now, as luck would have it, a meanspirit happened to be passing by the large, large house. You may or you may not have heard of meanspirits. They can, and they do, appear in a variety of forms, as ghosts or hobgoblins, as wizards or witches, as bogeymen or little green men, even the ice cold breath on the back of your neck when you know for _certain _you're all alone.

This particular meanspirit, unable to sleep because of the moon, had crossly climbed out of the midnight river at the very end of the town (where none but the _very_ foolish would dare to walk by on haunted nights such as this) and had decided to appear as an eerie thin, grey shadow, with hollow eyes and no nose and just a thin line for a mouth. Well, there he was, creeping along and still dripping wet, and he came closer to listen.

Of course, when he heard the loving words, he was sick at once!

Very, very sick! Right there, right then, right on the vast lawn of the large, large house, and all over the inflatable left boot of the inflatable Santa Claus. For, you see, there was nothing a meanspirit detested more than happy little family scenes. He must do something about it, he thought, scowling horribly. And all at once a plan began to form in his meanmind. So the child was to be spoilt, was she? Spoilt _rotten_ by the sound of it. Rotten was a _lovely_ word. One of the meanspirit's favourites. It was time, the perfect time, to cast a meanspell...

*****

_Tap-a-tap-a-tap! Tap-a-tap-a-tap! Tap-a-tap-a-tap!_

It was most peculiar. Angie's mother sat, rocking her baby daughter in her arms, softly singing a lullaby. She was sure they were all alone in the nursery. Angie's father was downstairs in the kitchen, humming merrily as he iced the Xmas cake. Angie was, as usual, fast asleep (though it must be said the mother had a_ terrible _voice and both the mother and father _would_ talk all the time as though they were in the middle of a fairytale and Angie seemed to be asleep _a lot _so I'm inclined to think she was only pretending in the hope they would go away). Be that as it may, there was a tap-tapping at the window. The mother tenderly tucked the expensive shawl round her baby daughter and carried her across to the window.

"Who can that be?" She called.

But there was nobody there! Not a Xmas robin nor a Xmas window cleaner after a Xmas tip nor even a Xmas burglar suddenly discovering he was afraid of heights. And then, just when she was looking out the window, the tap-tapping began again!

_Tap-a-tap-a-tap! Tap-a-tap-a-tap! Tap-a-tap-a-tap!_

Only this time it came from the nursery cupboard!

"Who can that be?" The mother called, peeking into the nursery cupboard.

But there was nobody there! Not a Xmas mouse nor a Xmas rat nor Xmas lover having accidentally hidden himself in the wrong bedroom. And then, just when she was peeking into the nursery cupboard, the tap-tapping began again!

_Tap-a-tap-a-tap! Tap-a-tap-a-tap! Tap-a-tap-a-tap!_

Only this time the tapping was at the window again! The mother gently laid the baby back in her cradle.

"Dear little daughter, you are our very own sleeping beauty and I don't wish to wake you," she said dotingly.

The poor, poor meanspirit was very nearly sick again. But his meanplan had worked. The child was alone!

The moment the mother went to open the window, the nursery glowed with different shades of blues and greens and lilacs (as in all good soaps, meanspirits _do_ like to be unnecessarily dramatic and our meanspirit _had_ been very taken with the fibre optic tree).

"You will destroy," the meanspirit whispered in Angie's ear. "Destroy, destroy, destroy!"

The child's eyes flew open at last. They were black. Black as coal and old as centuries. And Angie's demonic laughter shrieked through the large, large house...


	3. Chapter 3

*****Chapter 3*****

*****A Wonderful Adventure!*****

Now the meanspirit was strangely drawn to Angie because at the back of Angie's head, unnoticed by the simple mother and father, three golden curls fell into three magical numbers: 666

This helped the meanspell of destruction work at once. Overnight, the child grew into a beautiful woman and despatched her rather strange parents to La-La Land forever. She became famed for her beauty and many a suitor travelled from the ends of the earth seeking her hand in marriage. But every suitor she turned into a garden gnome with which to decorate the vast gardens of the large, large house that had grown into a palace. For, sadly, the evil Angie was in love with none but herself.

Every day she preened herself in front of the hundreds of gilt-edged mirrors that surrounded the palace and asked _Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is fairest of them all? _And every day each mirror faithfully answered _You, oh Angie, are fairest of them all. _Until that fateful morning when the voice of the mirrors, one and all, echoed with a different answer... _Sorry, luv, but you've been consigned to history! Kirsty of Summer Bay is the answer to the mystery!_

Angie's jealous face was terrible to behold and her ear-splitting scream of rage terrible to hear. Each and every mirror, window and glass in the palace, unable to bear the terrible screaming, shattered into thousands and thousands of tiny pieces.

"Then Kirsty of Summer Bay must be destroyed!" She declared, petulantly stamping her foot and ruining her brand new designer Cinderella glass slippers.

But this is a fairytale-soap and, as we all know, wishes come true in fairytales and anything at all can happen in soaps. No sooner had Angie furiously yelled, _Now I need another goddamn pair of slippers! _than a pair of ruby red slippers tumbled down from the sky! Of course Angie tried them on at once. They were a perfect fit. She clicked her heels together in admiration.

And then a strange thing happened. A long, winding road appeared in front of her and the oddest-looking, tiny woodland creatures scampered out from the nearby woods!

"Follow the Summer Bay Road!" They called in their high-pitched sing-song voices. "Follow the Summer Bay Road! Follow the Summer Bay, follow the Summer Bay, follow the Summer Bay Road!"

Pausing only once, to gaze in adoration at her own reflection in the shiny ruby red slippers, Angie clicked her heels together twice more. And then off she went, dancing and skipping, along the long, winding road, with the odd creatures skipping after her until it grew far, far too dark for the poor little things to follow any further.

"Angie! Good luck, Beautiful Angie!" They screeched, waving tearfully.

Angie glanced back in disdain and, with one imperious wave of her hand, turned them into crumbling leaves that were quickly borne away on the wind. The evil one laughed manically and skipped on. She was on her way to Summer Bay and the beginning of a wonderful adventure!


	4. Chapter 4

*****chapter 4*****

*****Angie: A Glitch in the System*****

At last the evil one reached a clearing in the woods where the long, winding road ended. So this was Summer Bay where the fair Kirsty did dwell? Well, soon Kirsty of Summer Bay would be no more!

Her large gleaming molars shone brightly as she rubbed long, red-taloned fingers together and gave a twisted smile. At the end of the path she could see in the bright mooonlight a house that stood all alone. The house was made of bon bons, liquorice and sweetmeats, with a chocolate-coated chimney, popsicles for windows and a single, giant, round Maryland cookie for a door. Angie marched smartly up the garden path, her ruby red slippers clacking importantly, and, just as she was about to push her way in, the cookie crumbled and she was able to peer inside.

All darkness, save for in the old-fashioned hearth where the red and yellow flames of a fire danced and crackled and sent golden sparks flying up the chimney. There was little furniture and what little there was had long ago become covered in tangled, grey cobwebs. A rickety chair or two, one with a soaking wet greatcoat thrown across its back; an old wooden table on which sat a cauldron of steaming soup and an uneven pile of books, yellowed with age and thickened with dust; a Welsh dresser with old, cracked plates and half an unlit candle still in its holder and still with the drips of wax staining its once shiny surface.

She crept across to the table and picked up the top book, blowing off the dust to squint at the title in the firelight and starting as she read the words that ran across the jacket: _Angie: Wickedest Witch of the Best! _No, it was only coincidence...wasn't it...?

Tentatively, she wiped the dust from the spine of the next book, swallowing nervously as she read. _Angie: A Glitch in the System! _And on to the next: _Get Rich Quickly! An Angie Guide to Making Millions! _and then _Ditch that Diet! Follow the Angie Guide to Losing Weight! _on and on the titles went, as though in some peculiar dream-like way someone or something mocked her.

The smell of dust and soot and candle wax was making her dizzy. Something about the shadows and the way they fell in firelight and moonlight stirred some deep-sleeping memory. A vague image of a terrible dream seeped into her mind, dozens of dark, shadowy shapes of men and women, here in this room, whispering her name over and over, reaching to her, walking ever closer...

"Angie! Angie! _Angie!"_

But this time the voice was real. Not just in memory but inside this very room. For the first time, Angie noticed the witch's pentacle chalked in front of the fire...


	5. Chapter 5

*****chapter 5*****

*****Angie Baby*****

Without remembering when or how, Angie had dipped the ladle into the soup and brought it to her lips. Warm and salty as it hit her tongue. The misty shadows closed in on her, whispering her name louder, and now music was bouncing and echoing off the walls, a song she knew from many, many years ago...

_You live your life in the songs you hear_

_on the rock and roll radio_

_and when a young girl doesn't have any friends_

_that's a really nice place to go..._

_Angie Baby, you're a special lady_

_living in a world of make-believe..._

The words crashed around her head. Screaming, she pressed her fists against her ears...

_"Angie!"_

At last another voice managed to cut through the constant whispering. As though waking from a dream, Angie blinked and focused.

The room was her office. Clean, bright, airy. Young Dani Sutherland sat at the PC, papers, pen, mobile and keys scattered on the desk, her fingers paused in the act of tapping the keyboard.

"Are you...are you okay?" She asked, staring.

The older woman looked round in confusion, heart pounding against her chest. No whispers now. No song thundering through her head. No misty people reaching. The five-pointed star, the rickety chairs, the soaking wet greatcoat, the old table, the Welsh dresser and its cracked plates and used candle...all gone. Where the fire had earlier blazed, the wall radiator emitted a comforting heat with its usual gentle clicks and sighs. On the table, in place of the tureen of tomato soup, stood a thin-stemmed wine glass and bottle of red wine. But there _were _books. Three in all. Dry-mouthed with fear, she quickly poured and gulped back some of the wine, feeling its warmth soothing the back of her throat, and cautiously fingered their titles:

_The Oxford Concise Dictionary; A Thesaurus of Words and Phrases; Fairytales for Today by Angie Russell..._

The latter she snatched up, frantically flicking through its pages, eyes greedily scanning the lines of type. It contained children's stories. Prettily illustrated in the bold, bright colours that children loved. Simple tales told in character and given up-to-date twists and frequent dashes of humour. Little Red Riding Hood bought her outfit from a designer outlet, worried about animal welfare and tried to persuade her grandmother to give up smoking. Cinderella hated her job in a swanky hotel and dreamt of becoming a contestant on a reality TV.

Angie 's breaths became more even. She took another sip of wine. Calming now. Everything was alright. It was all coming back to her. She had been working on the second series of _Fairytales,_ following on from the huge success of the first. They were her stories, her ideas, and the collaboration with Dani made the words flow. But there was..._had been _something about the room...hadn't there...?

She dug into the recess of memory. No. Gone. Slipped from her mind like the meanspirit that suddenly upped and left the swamp where it had dwelled a thousand years in her tale of _The Princess and the Haunted Castle_. All that she could recollect now was pressing her hands against her ears and giving a small scream of fury when writers block hit at a crucial point of dictation.

She'd been working far too hard. Sleeping at odd hours, not eating properly, her mind constantly churning with creating story after story. Small wonder she sometimes felt she was losing her grip on reality. And the Sutherland girl didn't appear to have noticed anything different about the room. Her gaze burnt into Angie Russelly, her eyes wide.

Obviously, Angie realised, she'd been scaring the kid with creative histrionics. She took another sip of the wine and smiled reassuringly at her. Dani smiled back uncertainly. The wine had stained Angie's teeth. It often did. She had no idea where Angie purchased it from, but Angie insisted on drinking a glass of red wine every time they worked together. Helped her think, she said. Dani thought it made her a little...unhinged. Of course she always offered Dani a glass when she came to continue with the book, but Dani always declined. The very thought made her gag.

Dani Sutherland had no desire whatsoever to drink wine made of blood…

_(Angie Baby by Helen Reddy)_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Bee Yourself, many thanks for your lovely reviews. **_**:))))**

*****chapter 6*****

*****Secrets and Shadows*****

Dani was shaking when she returned to her car. Emotion welled up inside her, small tears doing little to release the pent-up terror. Her hands tightly gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as though clinging to some death defying fairground ride.

It had all gone too far now for her to dismiss it as just another of Angie Russell's idiosyncrasies. The other stuff had been harmless. Like the vanity. So what if Angie couldn't walk past a mirror, or anything that captured her reflection, a window, a picture frame, on one occasion even a _teaspoon_, without pausing to admire herself, touching up make-up, smoothing her hair, checking out her toothy smile? Non-stop TV interviews, book signing sessions, flashing cameras in restaurants, all that adulation would go to _anyone's_ head.

And, okay, it _was _weird, but what did it really matter that Angie was often in a deep sleep whenever Dani arrived? It _was_ irritating that it took several rings of the doorbell to rouse her, but perhaps she just slept badly at nights. Or maybe it was the wine. The wine...Dani sucked in a shuddering breath, yearning to put distance between herself and the isolated beach house, but aware she was in no fit state yet to drive, her trembling, perspiring hands still clinging desperately on to the wheel.

Until tonight she'd thought Angie was joking. Even laughed when the older woman said the wine she drank was made with _blood. _

They'd been taking a break from writing _Hansel and Gretel Go Ice Skating! _and fallen into idle conversation about whether or not the witch in the story could have been based on a real person.

"I don't mean she _ate_ people," Angie explained, sipping red wine as she spoke. "But she might well have drunk blood wine. Like this. Care for a glass?"

Dani declined, laughing at what she'd thought was obviously a joke, rattling her empty coffee cup back into its saucer. Wine made her sleepy and she wanted to concentrate.

Angie shrugged. "It's an acquired taste. But good for helping me think more clearly."

Dani smiled politely and changed the subject. Privately she thought the wine had exactly the opposite effect on Angie. Made her ramble and DanI's job of transcribing _Fairytales_ more difficult. But there were a few things she had chosen not to share with Angie. Like the fact she was glad her name wasn't in any way associated with the books. Dani thought the new stories sucked, preferring the traditional tales of her own childhood, but she needed to supplement her meagre Uni grant somehow so she'd happily accepted the deal of anonymity and regular fees for transcribing and editing the stories. Despite her misgivings however, _something_ must have appealed to the nation's psyche because, almost overnight, _Fairytales_ soared to the top of the best-seller charts, even toppling J K Rowling's much-awaited Harry Potter sequel, her darkest yet, the story of Harry's doppelganger enrolling at Hogwart's.

The moon abruptly stole Dani's gaze, shining as it did with a sudden luminous brightness. With heavy sighs, the silvery tide had begun to flow over the sands, ebbing and flowing and rising as though some invisible giant beneath was waking and determined to dash itself to an untimely death against the rocks.

So beautiful and yet so treacherous, Dani thought. Under the rhythmic waves, far, far away and deep in those waters, red-hot volcanoes erupted, sea predators fed on carrion and men died slow deaths as their ships sank down, down, down on to the ocean floor. And yet the sea could touch the soul too, inspiring great music, paintings and literature. Like the fairytales Angie stole, full of both light and dark. Angie. Dani frowned, thinking back to the night's events.

Leaving her usual glass of wine on the computer desk, Angie had gone up to the loft to fetch an old book and check out an ancient Chinese fairytale that they couldn't find any information about on the net. Engrossed in rewriting a paragraph, Dani reached for a packet of mints without taking her eyes off the computer screen and accidentally cut herself on the sellotape dispenser, catching the wine glass as she rushed to stem the flow of blood, splashing a little of the wine on her skin before she was able to steady the glass again. And that was when she realised. That was when things _really_ got scary. Exactly the same colour. Exactly the same texture. Angie _hadn't _been joking...

"Found it!" Angie had returned at that moment, and, seeing Dani bleeding, was full of concern.

"Wow, kid, you're white as a sheet and shaking so much. It's not that bad a cut, honest," she said, as she bathed the wound.

"I...I just feel a bit crook," Dani whispered, wanting Angie to let go of her hand, and too afraid to tell her why.

"Yeh, you look it. Maybe we should wrap up early tonight, huh?" Angie had taken a quick sip of wine and that had been when she had..._...Changed._

Eyes wild with terror. Seeing something that Dani couldn't see. Screaming an ear-splitting scream.

"Angie!" Dani yelled over and over in fear. "Angie, _Angie!" _

It seemed an age before she grabbed Angie's attention again. Even then Angie barely saw her, looking round the room as if she didn't know where she was, snatching up _Fairytales_ and riffling through the pages as though she'd never seen the book before.

And now...the blood.

Dani had to confide in someone. Someone she could trust totally. But who? Her sister Jade was still in the city getting to know the de Groot family. The olds were still holidaying in Europe. And it wasn't exactly the kind of news you could impart over the phone. There was… Kirsty. The sister who'd caused her so much pain. Dani bit her lip. Everyone, even Kirsty and Kane, thought she was okay with what had happened, okay with her life now. Truth was, it was just a facade. Kane was the reason she couldn't hold on to any relationship.

She was still crumbling inside.

*****

Angie slowly sipped the remainder of the glass of wine, deep in thought. Funny how the joke had popped into her head. What had made her say the wine was made with _blood?_

But it had seemed appropriate at the time, what with she and Dani discussing how many fairytales had a dark side. Hansel and Gretel. Bluebeard. Rumpelstiltskin. Now _he _was a puzzle. Meant to be a magician, but he could just as easily have been a devil or a ghost or an alien.

She yawned and stretched. The wine tasted good. She'd found a whole crate containing a dozen bottles down in the cellar of the beach house. Funny, but try as she might she couldn't remember how she came by it. She yawned again. The clock was ticking soothingly and her eyelids were growing heavy.

*****

You can only fool yourself for so long. So you can tell yourself you're dreaming and you can tell yourself you're crazy, but you _know..._

it IS_..._

Figures rising from the sea. At first nothing more than grey, indistinct clouds of mist sweeping up from the water, then separating, then each taking shape, then each shape turning darker. Forming into something vaguely recognisable._ People!_ Shadowy people. Perhaps they have dwelled beneath these waves for thousands of years.

And it might be the light of the moon playing tricks on your eyes but you _know..._

what you _SEE..._

Now there are whispers. And sighs. So many sighs. Oh, it might be the sea breezes or the waves sweeping to the shore. Except you _know..._

what you HEAR_..._

And as an ice-cold wind blows past, you can tell yourself it's your imagination. But you _know..._

what you FEEL_..._

And Dani watched in terror as the shadow people emerged from the sea and seeped through the walls of Angie's house...


	7. Chapter 7

**Once again, Bee Yourself, thanks for reading and your lovely reviews. :)**

*****chapter 7****

******A Deal*****

"Dani!" Kirsty's initial delight when she opened the door to see her older sister quickly turned to fear and impulsively she threw her arms round her. "Dani, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"Sorry," Dani managed to find her voice. Briefly. "I..."

It was hard to know where to begin. Dani tried to make sense of the night. She had driven to Kirsty's on auto pilot, never once looking back. Terrified that some of the beings that had come from the ocean might somehow have attached themselves to her car...the shadow people, ghosts, whatever they were. Meanspirits. That was what Angie called the beings that emerged from the deep waters in her tales. It was only then it occurred to Dani. Where had Angie got the idea from? Unless..._she'd seen them herself...?_

"Hey, Kirst, where's...?" Kane didn't finish his question. "Hi," he added uncertainly.

"Hey," Dani returned.

He didn't look the way she remembered him. Even during Kane and Kirsty's wedding, even while she was behaving like she was fine with everything, it was all she saw. Nobody knew she had turned away the moment Kirsty and Kane had looked into each other's eyes and made their vows, recalling the day those same eyes had looked into her own. He was the reason she had visited her nephew only once before. Out of duty.

The day he was born she had called at the hospital, brought flowers, offered congratulations, leaned close to Kirsty holding her newborn son, smiled for the family photo as Kane, his face wreathed in smiles, clicked the digital camera. They had asked her to hold Jamie for another picture and she had refused, made some excuse about being afraid of dropping someone so small, wondered how Kirsty and Jade could bear to touch the child of a monster. Because Dani knew with overwhelming certainty it was all a sham and he didn't care for anyone. But now, carrying his sleepy son, a teddy bear and an almost empty bottle of milk, he looked every inch the proud husband and father. And, as he entered the room without knowing Dani was there, she had caught an unguarded moment. The look of tenderness he had for his wife and son.

"Found it!"

Kane answered his own question, swinging round momentarily to pick up a musical toy, while Jamie watched his aunt sleepily, his chin resting contentedly on the teddy bear on his father's shoulder. Despite herself, Dani couldn't help smiling. Jamie's eyes flickered back wide open and he smiled back as though they shared a secret.

"Can I hold him?" Dani already had her arms oustretched and Kirsty exchanged glances as Dani held her little nephew for the very first time, talking baby language to him while he jabbered and laughed. Kane squeezed Kirsty's hand. It had hurt so much that Dani had always been cool towards them. Kirsty pretended not to mind that she never visited but Kane knew how his wife often broke her heart crying and how often he cried with her, knowing he was the reason she never came to the strange little isolated house that they rented situated on the lonely beach road.

A cuckoo clock struck somewhere in the house - out of time, out of step, being one of their friend Robbie's many crazy inventions - and the noise suddenly woke Dani to the reason she was here. In the midst of all this normality, it was hard to believe that she had lately fled in terror. The moment Kirsty had hugged her, she had stopped shaking. Reassured.

She held Jamie tight and closed her eyes, opening them slowly, afraid that this was just a dream and she would open them again to the terrors of the night. But instead her gaze fell on a photo taken at the hospital the day Jamie was born. Kirsty, her face shining with happiness, sat up in bed, cradling her newborn son. Dani and Jade sat at each side, their faces pressed against hers. There was something, Dani thought, about this eccentric little house with its uneven doors and sloping windows and cuckoo clocks that couldn't tell anyone the time. Something warm and comforting. Something invisible and yet everywhere. And then it came to her. There was nothing but love here.

*****

_October 31st 1979._

Sixteen-year-old Angie Russell ran breathlessly up to her room, switched the radio on LOUD as always, flung down her school bag and grinned at her reflection. This was it. The date she'd been waiting for. The witch's pentacle had already been drawn, the sand-dusted tome she'd found on the beach was at her feet and open at the correct page, incense burned at either side of the mirror, as the spell decreed it should. Soon Angie would know beauty, fame and riches beyond her wildest dreams - and all that she had to do was summon up a witch inside the mirror!

Angie hummed along to the music. The station was playing a mixture of old songs, back to back. The Beatles' _Strawberry Fields _faded and Helen Reddy's clear voice filled the vacant air.

_You live your life in the songs you hear_

_on the rock and roll radio_

_and when a young girl doesn't have any friends_

_that's a really nice place to go..._

_Angie Baby, you're a special lady_

_living in a world of make-believe..._

Angie stopped humming as she stepped inside the witch's pentacle. Concentration was everything now. Her heart thudded in eager anticipation.

_"Beauty, riches, fame, be mine, I summon thee, beauty, riches, fame, be mine, I summon thee, beauty, riches, fame, be mine, I summon thee..." _

Recited three times as instructed. Almost like a magic spell from a fairytale. She looked down at the sand-dusted tome and carefully intoned the next part of the spell. Words she had never seen before, could barely pronounce, seeming to jumble together. An icy breeze rippled the corners of the pages. An eerie wailing seeped through walls that had began to run profusely with a deep red liquid. The putrid smell of rotting flesh overwhelmed the scent of incense. And then...She was inside the mirror. _She_ was _inside_ the mirror!

In a room where all was darkness, save for in the old-fashioned hearth where the red and yellow flames of a fire danced and crackled and sent golden sparks flying up the chimney. There was little furniture and what little there was had long ago become covered in tangled, grey cobwebs. A rickety chair or two, one with a soaking wet greatcoat thrown across its back; an old wooden table on which sat a cauldron of steaming soup and an uneven pile of books, yellowed with age and thickened with dust; a Welsh dresser with old, cracked plates and half an unlit candle still in its holder and still with the drips of wax staining its once shiny surface.

She crept across to the table and picked up the top book, blowing off the dust to squint at the title in the firelight and starting as she read the words running across the jacket: _Fairytales for Today by Angie Russell._

Without remembering when or how, she had dipped the ladle into the soup and brought it to her lips. Warm and salty as it hit her tongue. The smell of dust and soot and candlewax was making her dizzy. There was an icy breeze here too. The icy blast from a door flung suddenly open. Wind-blown night rain followed a strange creature inside.

The creature was the size and build of a man yet it was no more than an eerie thin, grey shadow, with hollow eyes, no nose and just a thin line for a mouth. It picked up the greatcoat and paused.

"One year!" it hissed. "You will have one year, far in the future, of beauty, fame and riches and after that year, your soul will join us. We have a deal?"

"A deal," Angie agreed, mesmerised.

They were suddenly on the beach. The wailing came from the black angry waters. From the misty shadows that lived there. Calling her name from the depths of the ocean. Rising. Surrounding her. Dragging her towards the sea...


	8. Chapter 8

**Pixielove, many thanks for all your kind reviews. This is the final chapter. :)))**

*****chapter 8*****

**EPILOGUE**

*****Happily Ever After*****"

Be careful," Kirsty said, weeping softly against Kane's chest as he enveloped her and Jamie in a hug.

"I will," he promised, kissing his wife and child tenderly.

"You love her so much," Dani said in wonder, as they got into the car.

He smiled, his eyes shining with the tears he was trying unsuccessfully to hide.

"My wife and my kid are my whole reason for living."

"I know," Dani said.

And suddenly she did. Suddenly he wasn't a monster anymore. He never had been. The true monster was Angie.

*****

They heard Angie last screams as they ran down to the shore. She had already disappeared into the mist before they even reached there. Of course the meanspirits tried to rise out of the sea to drag Kane and Dani into the ocean too but a wall of love rose to prevent them and the mean spirits were powerless. Love, you see, is the only thing that can defeat a meanspirt and Kane was thinking of his love for his wife and child and Dani of her love for her family.

"It's too late," Kane said sadly.

"For Angie," Dani said. "But it's not too late for Kirsty and me to be sisters again."

*****

So the moral of this tale is beware of meanspirits!

They lurk in oceans and ditches, in rivers and seas, in whirpools and waterfalls, and they will always try to call to you. _Beware!_

If you are foolish enough to allow yourself to be lulled by the gentle music of the water and steal closer to listen then they have your name and you may fall under their terrible spell. Take extra special care should you ever find yourself on the beach in the little seaside town of Summer Bay. You see, it's believed a most dreadful thing happened there in times gone by.

They say there once dwelled in Summer Bay the beautiful but very spoilt Angie who, when she was just a baby and fast asleep, was cursed by a petulant meanspirit who happened to be passing on his way to find a new river in which to dwell. Once you've been cursed by a meanspirit, there's nothing you can do about it. Angie was cursed, and that was that.

So, when she was sixteen years old, and being very bored one day, she wandered down to the beach where she found a strange book filled with magic spells. _Evil spells!_

Of course, evil spells don't always work right away. Sometimes it might take a great many years for the power to build. But work it must have done or our tale would not be told. The good folk of Summer Bay claim that on certain nights when the moon is bright and the wind is low you may hear an unnatural wailing coming from the sea and you may see an eerie grey mist rolling in across the water. _Don't go near! _

For, if you do, you will surely be swallowed by the mist and the meanspirits (some call them meanspirits, some call them shadow-people, some call them ghosts, some say - and it may even be so - that they are demons) will come for you. But, no matter who or what they are, they will know your name and they will take you into the deep with them forever but...

Worse than this. Worst of all...

It will be the most destructive, most evil old hag who will drown you. Slowly. And laugh while she does so. Her name is Angie and once they say she was beautiful. But beauty is only skin deep and her true nature was always ugliness.

However, I tell you this only to warn you. In truth, you need not be afraid in Summer Bay.

The bravest man of all, Kane Phillips, dwells in Summer Bay together with his beautiful wife Kirsty and their adorable baby son. And wicked witch Angie will never appear while our hero and heroine live there because she knows their love and happiness would kill her. For, as is known throughout the kingdom, Kane and Kirsty are the happiest, most in-love couple in the world. And because their home is such a happy one, and filled with laughter, everyone visits often but especially Kirsty's two loving sisters, Dani and Jade. And so my story ends with much rejoicing. Angie was seen in Summer Bay no more and neither were the nasty meanspirits who would dare wish our golden couple harm.

And they all lived happily ever after.

*****THE END*****


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